


Heartbeat

by fidelisinfinitum



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: (to a point), Angst, Barisi - Freeform, Canon Compliant, Confessions of love, Episode 7, Episode Tag, M/M, Minor Character Death, first fic in this fandom, s18 e7, season 18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 12:07:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11081259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fidelisinfinitum/pseuds/fidelisinfinitum
Summary: Sonny hasn't been the same since the shooting. All he can hear is his heartbeat in his ears.Bum-bum. Bum-bum. Bum-bum.He wonders why he gets to hear his.





	Heartbeat

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic on here, so it's probably pretty bad. Oh well.

Sonny felt guilty, which didn't make sense, since he didn't do anything. 

Actually, no, it did make sense because that was why he felt guilty. He was guilty for feeling scared (and if he was honest with himself, very fucked up) because of what had happened. He'd felt this way after Dodds'... After the funeral. He'd felt like he was a completely different person. 

Which he had no right to be, just like he had no right now. He hadn't shot anybody, he'd just been there for the aftermath. He'd just had a gun held to him. That'd happened before. It wasn't like this was the worst thing that has ever happened to him. (It was. It really, really was.)

Sonny felt guilty because he was so, for lack of a better word, traumatized because of it. Compared to everyone else, this was nothing. 

Liv had been held hostage (multiple times if the whispers he'd heard around the precinct after that incident were to be believed) and much worse (again, whispers). She was the one who'd shot him anyway! 

Amaro had to leave because of his injuries. He'd gone off to California. 

And Dodds...well, Dodds had died. 

Sonny hadn't thought about it in those terms, ever. But, ironically, he was braver about it now. Dodds was dead. He could have died too. 

Sonny could have died. 

He would never have seen his family again. 

He would never see his squad again (or what was left of it). 

Never really tell Barba how he felt (he couldn't call him Rafael in his mind, never, not even with these personal of thoughts).

Nothing. That's all he'd be. 

It wouldn't really be that different from normal, anyway. 

**

Sonny had tried to wash the blood off, he really had, but his hands were shaking too much and then there were other things to think about, so by the time he got home the blood had dried, crusted on his face and in his hair and on his shirt collar. So, logically, the first thing he should have done was take a shower, wash the residue of death off of his person. 

But he didn't. It would be too easy to lose what faint control he had left in the shower, too easy to blame his wet face on the spray or his shampoo. 

So Sonny sat down, hesitantly, as if suddenly his life would be revoked and the couch would disappear and he'd be thrown straight to the point of judgement. He jumped when he heard the buzzer, not expecting any visitors, especially not ones who wouldn't call first. 

He found himself saying "Yes?" As if he was so pathetic he didn't even know how to work the buzzer. 

"Carisi, it's Barba. Liv sent me to check on you?" The last part sounded like a question to Sonny, and made him wonder why Liv had sent Barba. 

He realized with a jolt, as he buzzed Barba in, that everyone else, having seen their own mortality clearer then normal, would be at home, with their families. Amanda would be with Jesse, Fin would probably call his son, Liv would be with Noah and Tucker, and, God, was that all that was left? Were those the only ones left?

The knock on the door surprised him, and he jumped again, having stood in a confused stupor for longer than he'd thought. Sonny unlatched the door, letting Barba in. Barba had never been to his apartment before, and Sonny was ready for what he assumed would be comments about how small or quaint his place must be compared to Barba's. 

But Barba just said a quick hello and stepped in. Surprising. At least to Sonny. 

"So, uh, what'd Liv tell you?" he asked. His stomach twisted at the thought that Liv would have to tell what had happened yet again, to Barba of all people, they'd had to do that enough today and-

"That Cole had Quinn hostage and when she was negotiating, you went in. She went in after you, and he had a gun, and she had to shoot."

"That's it?" Sonny felt weak in the knees. She hadn't told Barba why. Probably some crap about how he had to tell him himself, that it would be better for him or something. But he sent a thanks to the man upstairs, for this small blessing in a day that was the exact opposite. 

There he went again, feeling like this day has been the worst for him, nevermind what everyone else had gone through. He had no right to-

"-risi? Sonny? Are you okay?" Sonny suddenly registered Barba's face in front of him, looking concerned. More concerned than Sonny had ever seen him actually. 

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said flippantly. "You should really be asking the Lieu, she shot the guy."

Barba's lips pressed together, for just a second, but Sonny caught it. That look of disapproval, that look that made him feel like even more of an asshole, of a bad person. 

"Sorry," he apologized, feeling the need to justify his words, "I guess it's not proper to talk like that, not after this day-"

"No, it's fine," Barba said softly, "Talk however you want." His brows furrowed. His eyes scanned Sonny's face, landing on the blood he hadn't been able to scrape off at the scene. "What's that?"

Barba reached his hand out, to touch the blood stains. 

Sonny flinched back, he couldn't help it, it was too familiar. The barrel was right there, so close he went cross eyed looking at it. All he could hear was the shot, and his heartbeat in his ears (bum-bum, bum-bum, bum-bum), and all he could feel was the warm, sticky spray, proof that someone had been alive, once, had a beating heart, and for a second he thought it was his. That one hysterical second before he had composed himself, or tried to, and he could hear Liv behind him, comforting, saying that it was going to be okay, and all he could think about was that cold metal barrel, his breathing labored, adrenaline flooding his system, his heart beating, bum-bum, bum-bum, bum-bum, panicking, sinking to his knees-

"It's nothing. It's not mine." Sonny was proud to say that his voice was steady. If he hadn't flinched back, maybe he would've been more credible. 

"Then whose is it?" Barba asked, his voice soft, the kind of voice Sonny thought you would use with a skittish horse, to assure it that nothing would happen if you approached. Sonny wasn't sure how he felt about that voice being used on him. 

"It's, um, Cole's. From when Liv shot him." Sonny hated the way his voice betrayed him now. Now that he needed it to stay steady. 

"Why would she shoot when you were that close?" was Barba's immediate response. "That's not like her-"

"He had a gun to my head. He was gonna shoot me." Sonny's voice wasn't the only thing that was starting to betray him now. His eyes stung, brimming over with hot tears. He felt so weak. Turning away, he repeated himself, "He was gonna shoot me. It's not on Liv, it's on me, I let him get me, I was stupid-"

"You're not stupid," said Barba. "And it's not your fault."

Sonny turned around to a white faced Barba. "Then why do I feel so damn guilty?" It was almost a sob, and Sonny felt like he was eight years old again, like he'd fell off his bike and needed his mother to kiss it all better. 

"Because it was fucked up, and you're good police. Because you're a good person, Sonny. No good person can go through that and not be-" Barba waved his hands around, seemingly at a loss for words. 

Barba. At a loss for words. Of course it would be this day. 

"It's not anything though. I go to work, day in and day out, and I could have a gun held to me everyday. I do have a gun held to me, a lot. Why is this so different?"

"I don't know. But it is, isn't it?"

Two things he'd thought Barba would never say, both in one day. 

Huh. 

"I'm sorry," Sonny said, wiping his eyes. He just ended up smearing his tears around his face, in the blood. "For you having to be here for this. You can go. I'll be okay tomorrow."

And he meant it. He would be. He'd take a shower and sleep for a few hours, wake up and go to work. It would be just like any other day, or, in other words, nothing like any other day. 

He'd be fine. Everyone else was, so he would be too. 

"It's not like when Dodds-" and he still couldn't say it aloud. Not today at least. 

"I know. But I'm just as scared right now," said Barba, and wait, what?

"What?"

"I'm scared," his eyes darted to the floor for a second, before coming back up to meet Sonny's. "I'm scared to lose you, Sonny."

"Why?" Sonny was breathless. This was unexpected, possibly the second most unexpected thing he'd had happen to him today. 

"Because I'm in love with you."

The third thing Sonny hadn't thought Barba would ever say. 

Sonny laughed. Here he was, breaking down in his home, a dead mans blood on his face, and Rafael Barba was telling him that he loved him. 

"This has got to be a dream. Some sort of punishment for being such a bad person." Sonny was only half joking, his voice weak. 

Rafael's (damn it, if they were having love confessions, then he could think of the man by his first name) brows furrowed again. 

"Now that can't be true, I can't think of one horrible thing you've done."

More tears, somehow, spilled out at that. Barba had faith in him, Barba loved him. How, Sonny didn't know. But he did know that he wasn't about to disagree with it. 

"If you love me, then come prove it Barba," he said through his tears, and plopped down on his couch. Rafael followed eagerly, and they stayed there the rest of the night, promising peace and hope, and, for Sonny at least, innocence. 

**

"What I'm saying," said Sonny, his voice all but a whisper in the half light of the New York City night, "is that it's nothing. It's nothing to get so excited about. Everyone has had much worse-"

"I don't care about everyone else," said Rafael, kissing Sonny on the forehead. It was such an intimate gesture, one he hadn't had someone do in a long time. It was surprising. Like a lot of things today. 

"I know that's not true."

"Not like I care about you at least."

Sonny smiled, his first in a long time, at least for today. He hadn't smiled for a long time after Dodds' funeral. He hadn't joked. But it was later now. He could smile now. 

"That's good, I don't like sharing, Rafael."

They both smiled this time, safe and warm and alive in Sonny's apartment. Alive. 

Sonny swore he could feel Rafael's heartbeat through his shirt. 

Bum-bum. Bum-bum. Bum-bum. 

It was like a lullaby. 

Bum-bum. Bum-bum. Bum-bum.

Sonny's eyes dropped closed, finally ready to end this awful, amazing day on a high note. 

Bum-bum. Bum-bum. Bum-bum.

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on my tumblr (fidelisinfinitum)


End file.
